9:32 a.m.: Roused by chickens, Dad is awakened at ungodly hour. Multiple pillows over head to no avail. Bitterly runs bubble bath, rueing ever moving to the cacophonous country. Longs for comparative silence of San Francisco in the ‘70s’.

11:43 a.m.: Finishes every article in Times-Standard. Rejoices in finding spelling errors.

12:01 p.m.: Out of bacon! Berates self roundly. Meatless eggs glumly consumed. Dad wonders if old age is creeping up like robber in the night. Resolves to increase turmeric consumption and try extra hard on crossword puzzles.

1:22 p.m.: Checks drying paprika peppers. Congratulates himself on future delicious paprika based dishes. Reminds Mom for 10,000th time paprika is secret ingredient in Doritos. Goes to gas station to purchase Nacho Cheese Explosion, in case Mom doubts.

1:44 p.m.: Handi-vacs cheese dust off couch.

2 p.m.: Hammers 14 more wood shingles on half-shingled side of house. Decides that’s a good day’s work.

3:22 p.m.: Makes espresso and fiddles on computer. Wishes Smugglers was still up. Longs for simpler platforms in the 90’s. Idly edits poetry, recalling days of typesetting. Were things better then? No. No they weren’t. However glad not young, death approaching.

3:56 p.m.: Dad worries paprika stores for winter insufficient, strings more peppers. Inspects closely for mold. No mold. Rejoices with mojito. Feeling inspired, plays “You Can Take The A Train” four times while preparing tapioca pudding.

5:22 p.m.: Mom returns home and feigns shock that dinner not started. Dad, martyred, considers pork chops. Wobbles tapioca at Mom, proving constructive afternoon.

6:10 p.m.: Feeling fit of productivity required, Dad furiously scrubs counter and stove, all the while pointing out said activity to Mom.

6:52 p.m.: Pre-emptively grinds token dry pepper and adds to pork chops with marsala. Family agrees paprika pointless unless hand-ground. To make point Dad throws out two pounds of store bought paprika. Immediately wonders if he’s gone too far.

8:32 p.m.: Watching “Thrill of the Grill,” Dad wonders if there is a way to plank salmon so that the skin gets crisp. Starts composing letter to “Thrill of the Grill” staff. Perhaps a pre-sear, Dad wonders? Life full of difficult challenges, re: salmon.

8:56 p.m.: Smokes weed to facilitate writing but opposite effect attained, remembers tapioca and joyfully consumes mound. Congratulates past self on thinking of future tapioca. Leaves a little for Mom with great self-restraint.

9:47 p.m.: Makes sourdough toast.

10:32 p.m.: Heroically restrains self from taking second bath, reminding self that hot water doesn’t grow on trees. Laughs for four minutes at hilarious concept. Dad wonders where he gets these ideas. Sketches Hot Water Tree.

11:22 p.m. Emails French-Canadian friend advising for the 30th time against suicide, reminds chum how great socialized medicine is. Compares Justin Trudeau to Donald Trump in effort to cheer chum up. Sheds tear for friend’s sadness while feeling great about comforting email.

12:01 a.m. Takes hot bath. Goes to bed.

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